


All We Know of Heaven

by organizedchaos703



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Jewish Wanda Maximoff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organizedchaos703/pseuds/organizedchaos703
Summary: Wanda is struggling to cope after the death of her brother. She expects to be alone forever. Instead, she finds that family can be more than blood.





	All We Know of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [MaximoffFicExchange2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MaximoffFicExchange2018) collection. 



> This is my first attempt at a fic. Constructive criticism welcome. 
> 
> \----PROMPT----
> 
> I want to see Wanda forming a new family after Age of Ultron - her relationships with either Clint or Natasha (or both!) especially. How does Natasha make Wanda welcome, and help her become part of a team? What kind of personal bond do they form? What about Wanda's first visit to the farm to meet Laura and Clint's kids? Something developing those team connections after Age of Ultron, showing how Wanda starts bonding with new people even as she's grieving - I'd love that.

"Wanda," the voice seemed to come from a distance, tinged with concern. 

She was curled up on the floor of her Shield-issued barracks between the bed and the dresser. It had been hours (days? weeks?) since she had dared to leave. 

There was safety in isolation. 

The helicarrier was overcrowded. The fear and pain was almost palpable even tucked away behind a locked door. Sometimes Wanda couldn't figure out where she ended and the rest of the world began. The smell of ash and blood heavy in the air. It was familiar in a way that settled heavy in her belly making her nauseous. 

Time seemed to warp and bend. Her mind refusing to fill in the gaps. It had been a long time since the scarlet had managed to consume her so completely.

"Hey," Natasha's hands closed on Wanda's shoulders anchoring her back to reality, "are you okay?" Her voice was soft like she was speaking to a frightened child or terrified animal instead of an enemy.

Wanda wasn't sure how to answer. She wasn't sure if she was even capable of answering. She didn't feel okay. She didn't think she would ever be okay again. 

She felt empty. It was as if someone had reached inside her and hollowed out her insides. 

Pietro had never just been her brother. She thought of home and only saw his face. He was safety. He was her anchor. The only constant in a world that was always threatening to break apart at the seams. 

The first days after the experiments when the scarlet had threatened to drive her insane, he told her stories to keep her from losing herself. In turn, Wanda had counted out the seconds when his body moved faster than his mind could comprehend.

She pressed her hands to her face. They still tasted like blood. Rust and copper coated her tongue. 

"It's my fault," she whispered, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence. It was the first time she had admitted it even to herself. 

Wanda thought of Johannesburg. She could have have predicted the Hulk's violent reaction nor could she have predicted just how far he would travel. At worst, she thought he would turn on his team. It was just supposed to be a distraction.

In the end, it didn't matter. Innocents had suffered. Their blood was on her hands. Wanda had been collateral damage, intent never mattered when you were staring at the remains of what used to be home.

At some point, she had become the very thing she despised. She had become the scarlet in her veins. She was the broken thing, Hydra had molded into a weapon. The monster under the bed.

Her hands would never be clean again.

Natasha patted Wanda on the shoulder. Unease radiated off of the spy but she didn't move her hands away. 

"If we waste time assigning blame, we'll never get anywhere," Natasha said gently. 

Wanda forced her hands away from her face. Natasha had settled on the floor against the closed door, mirroring Wanda's posture. 

"I used to think I could balance the scales," Natasha said, she sounded lost in her own thoughts, "I thought SHIELD could help me wipe the red from my ledger."

Wanda caught a flash of a sobbing little girl. The crack of a bullet. Blood dripping against white linoleum. Natasha's regret colored the memories.

"You don't anymore?" Wanda asked, it was taking all of her concentration to focus on the conversation. She dug her nails into the meat of her calf. The pain provided a counterpoint to the numbness, it helped ground her. 

Natasha shrugged. She leaned her head against the door. "It doesn't matter how many lives I save. It won't bring back the ones I've taken. There's no scale with human lives. Saving a life doesn't give you the right to take one."

Wanda knew each life was sacred. Each person was loved. However, she couldn't go through life believing there was no atonement. There had to be a point. Wanda didn't need salvation. She just needed to know that she wasn't forever branded a monster. 

"Then why keep fighting?" Wanda asked. 

"It makes a difference to the people SHIELD saves. I figure maybe, just maybe, if I try hard enough I can leave the world a little better than I made it." 

Natasha brushed her hand over Wanda's hair. This time, there was no fear. "Why did you join the experiments?" she asked.

Wanda closed her eyes. She could see herself standing in front of Strucker for the first time. Pietro was holding her hand. She could almost feel the rage and hurt flowing through her veins. 

"I wanted to save Sokovia," she laughed but it sound more like sob, "we thought that power would let us change things."

It wasn't the whole story. There was always more. They had been so afraid and angry. All they had ever known was a country soaked in blood with nameless bodies lining the streets. Strucker hadn't just offered power. He had offered them hope. 

Wanda hadn't prayed since her parents died. There was no room for faith amidst all that pain. Her mother had prayed. Wanda couldn't remember her face but she could remember the Shabbat candles. Marya's belief had not saved her or her family. Her God had not protected them.

Wanda could remember lying awake at night counting Pietro's breaths when he was sick. She'd lived with the terror that falling asleep would mean waking to a corpse.

Strucker had offered reprieve from that fear. 

Yes, Wanda had wanted revenge. She had wanted Tony Stark to pay for his sins. 

However, she had always wanted to spare the children of Sokovia her pain. She was tired of children learning about death before they learned to read.

In hindsight, it seemed so silly. She had genuinely believed Strucker could help. She had wanted to be a hero. Instead, she had allowed herself to be manipulated.

Then she had allowed Pietro to wander into the arms of yet another murderous psychopath. 

"People have had less noble intentions," said Natasha with a hint of irony in her voice, "you're more than your bad choices. There's always time to turn it around."

There was a beat of silence. Wanda hugged her legs to her chest. She wasn't ready. Every choice she made had ended in death. 

Perhaps, it was time to walk away. She could bury the scarlet so deep inside of herself that it would never see the light of day. 

Perhaps, the only way to be a hero was to never try again. 

"You can walk away," said Natasha as if she was sensing the turn of Wanda's thoughts, "no one would blame you. You've lost enough. However, you could stay and make a difference."

"How did you know SHIELD was good?" Wanda asked. She was terrified of ending up with another HYDRA or Ultron. She didn't have the best track record about trusting the right people.

"I didn't. I don't trust SHIELD. I trust Clint. He saved my life. I figured anyone who took a former assassin home to their pregnant wife couldn't be all bad." Natasha smiled. It was enigmatic. "Don't trust SHIELD. Trust Clint and Laura. They saw me as more than a weapon. The new headquarters won't be ready until the end of the month. Go with Clint. Get your head screwed on straight before making any decision."

****

The Barton home was located in the middle-of-nowhere with rolling hills and trees as far as Wanda could see. It was like being at the edge of civilization, the exact opposite of the SHIELD helicarrier she had been living in for the past week. 

The house itself looked like something out of a children's storybook with a pale yellow facade and blue wooden shutters.

As they approached the wraparound porch, Wanda froze. Her heart was pounding until it felt like it would burst from her chest. It was too perfect here. It was nothing like her life in Sokovia.

Wanda deserved a cell and a life-sentence to pay for the things she had done and the lives she had taken. 

"We talked about this," Clint said, as if reading her mind, "they're waiting for you."

Wanda took a deep breath tasting honeysuckle and grass. She couldn't remember the last time she could breathe without swallowing ash. Her left hand wrapped around her right wrist. It felt like an anchor. It felt like Pietro's hand on hers as they moved through the busy marketplace. 

Inside the smell of cooking tomatoes and meat will the air. The house was bright. Large windows let in sunlight until the whole of the first floor seemed to glow. Colorful flowers in glass walls sat on corner tables. Children's artwork covered the walls. It reminded Wanda of her mother, the collector, with her endless supply of useless pretty things. 

(It had all ended up as broke glass cutting in her knees and palms)

Somewhere upstairs, Wanda could hear giggling. Clint had mentioned Lila and Cooper at the helicarrier. He had mentioned Laura was pregnant with their third child. They were naming him Nathaniel after Natasha. 

Clint laid a hand on her shoulder. Some of the tension fled Wanda's body. It meant he wasn't afraid. It almost made her feel like she wasn't alone. 

"You must be Wanda," said a pleasant voice from the doorway to the kitchen. Wanda turned to see a smiling woman with dark, wavy hair. "I'm Laura."

Before Wanda could even understand what was happening, Laura wrapped her arms around Wanda pulling her close. It was awkward. Wanda had stiffened, unprepared for the sudden contact. She tried to relax but Laura's enormous belly was between them. Wanda had little experience with pregnant women.

"Nat didn't come?" she asked turning to Clint. 

Wanda could feel the love and joy radiating between the two of them. Clint kissed Laura. Wanda turned away, she felt too much like she was intruding on a private moment. This was a family. She didn't belong here.

"She had some things she need to finish," Clint answered pulling away from Laura, "she'll visit soon."

Wanda had not been at the Barton farm for less than ten minutes but she was already messing up things for his family. Natasha was too busy cleaning up after Wanda's screw-ups. She had known it was a bad idea to come here. She should have stayed away in her SHIELD-issued room. It would have been better for everyone.

"Is there anything you can't eat, Wanda?" Laura asked gently. There was a note of something Wanda couldn't identify in her voice. 

Wanda forced a smile on her face and shook her head. After years on the street in Sokovia, she had learned to eat what was available. There was no room for pickiness in a warzone. 

"We're having spaghetti and meatballs," Laura continued when it became obvious Wanda wasn't going to speak, "I'll show you the guest room. Clint can finish dinner."

Laura led Wanda up the wide wooden stairs. She pointed out the kids' bedrooms, the nursery, the playroom, and their room. At the end of the hall overlooking the seemingly endless fields in the backyard was the guestroom. 

The room was brighter than Wanda had ever seen. the walls had been painted a sunny yellow that seemed to shine almost gold from the sunlight streaming through the large windows. 

"The bathroom is through there," Laura said pointing to a closed door to the left of the bed, "take your time washing up. I have some clothes in the dresser. They should fit you. I promise I wasn't always this huge."

Wanda perched on the bed after Laura left. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Family dinner was a concept she couldn't wrap her head around. She missed Pietro. He had always been better at navigating new terrain. Before the scarlet, he had been the one who was best at understanding people.

In the bathroom, Wanda studied her face in the mirror. She looked pale, almost sickly. The circles under her eyes were so dark, it didn't look like she had slept all week. then again, she hadn't, not since Pietro died. Only when her brain finally succumbed to exhaustion did she sleep until the nightmares woke her up.

The soap by the sink smelled like lemons. It stung her eyes and tasted bitter on her tongue when Wanda washed her face.

Downstairs, the kids were setting the table. Wanda stood watching them for a second. Lila set each piece of silverware on the table with careful concentration while Cooper set out the plates. 

"Can I help?" Wanda asked, unwilling to step into the kitchen. 

"Have a seat," Clint said pointing to the seat across from Cooper and beside Laura, "setting and clearing the table are the kids' chores."

Wanda nodded. She felt so useless. She didn't want to be a burden for Clint or Laura. 

****

Wanda woke with a start, a scream caught in her throat. Sometimes, it felt like she'd had a scream caught in her throat since she was ten years old. Ash coated her tongue.

She'd always had nightmares since a building collapsed on her childhood. Typically, Pietro calmed her down enough to let her go back to sleep. She reached across the bed for her brother. It took her a second to remember that Pietro was never coming back. She pressed her hands to her mouth to muffle her sobs. The panic morphing into grief.

Quiet as a mouse, Wanda slipped out from under the knitted blanket and made her way down the dark hallway. The only light filtered through Lila's open door from her nightlight. It allowed Wanda to walk down the stairs without tripping. 

She felt like she could breath again. In the guestroom, she had been suffocating under the weight of her loneliness. 

Wanda felt the presence of someone else in the kitchen as she poured herself a glass of tap water. She turned around and almost dropped the glass when she saw Laura standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said before she even knew if she'd done anything wrong.

"You didn't wake me up," Laura said lightly with a small smile, "I can't sleep because of the baby. Would you like some warm milk?"

Wanda shrugged.

She couldn't quite remember how to speak around Laura. It was hard watching Laura and Clint with their perfect house and their perfect kids. It made her chest hurt. She missed her parents with an intensity she had not felt in years. Without Pietro's anchoring presence she felt adrift and this house was everything she had ever wanted. 

A couple minutes later, Laura set a steaming mug of milk on the table then took the seat across from Wanda at the dining table. Wanda took a careful sip, it was nothing like she expected. It was sweet with hints of clove, vanilla, cinnamon, and cardamon. 

"Clint told me about your brother," Laura said gently. Wanda's free hand dug into her thigh under the table. "If you ever need to talk, we're here for you."

Wanda wrapped her hands around the mug. The warmth in her hands reminded her she was still alive despite her numbness. 

"Thank you," she said at least. The words felt like they were being scraped out of the giant chasm in her chest. 

****

The second time Wanda woke up, the sky was orange and pink beyond the gauzy curtains in the guest room. The house was silent. If she closed her eyes, Wanda could almost feel the edges of Lila's dreams. 

She pushed the scarlet deeper inside of herself until even the edges of Lila's mind disappeared. She was not going to risk another disaster because she couldn't control her abilities.

Wanda waited until she heard footsteps heading down the stairs before slipping out of bed. It took her longer than she expected to turn on the shower and even longer to get the water to heat up. It didn't make a difference to her. Wanda was used to cold showers in Novi Grad. 

From the dresser, Wanda found an old pale green sundress patterned with large pink flowers. Surprisingly, it fit her better than she had expected.

Downstairs, Clint was making something that looked a lot like thick palacsinta with chocolate chips inside. 

"You're up," Clint said while he grabbed some syrup out of the fridge, "would you like some pancakes?"

"I've never had them," Wanda admitted, "would you like some help?"

"Take a seat," Clint said without turning around.

"Coffee?" Laura asked, and Wanda shook her head. 

She couldn't stand the bitter taste. Pietro drank it every morning even when they couldn't afford milk or sugar but to Wanda it tasted like dirt.

Lila stumbled down the stairs sounding not unlike a small elephant. "Mom," she said in a voice that was too loud for the early morning, "can you fix my hair?"

"Give me a minute, honey," Laura said, whisking batter in a large mixing bowl. "Wanda, do you know how to braid?"

"No, I'm sorry," Wanda admitted embarrassed. 

Wanda could remember Baba Rivka pulling her hair into neat pigtails. She always told them stories while she did Wanda's hair. Once a week, she would make them apricot kolach they ate fresh out of the oven. The jam filling would burn their fingers.

"I'll teach you," Laura patted the seat next to her. 

She handed the mixing bowl of batter than gestured for Lila to sit on the floor between her legs. Lila immediately plopped down cross-legged before handing her mother a hairbrush and two bright pink hair ties. Laura brushed out Lila's hair keeping one hand on her scalp to avoid pulling at it. When she started to braid, she talked through each movement. Wanda watched carefully.

"You can do the other side," Laura said, gently nudging Lila to shift over. 

Wanda tried to copy Laura's smooth movements. It was awkward but in the end, Wanda had managed a passable braid. It wasn't quite as smooth as Laura's side but it wasn't bad for a first attempt.

"Thank you, Wanda," said Lila, jumping up and giving Wanda a hug.

****

After breakfast, Laura drove the kids to town for school while Wanda joined Clint in the new nursery. A thick strip of blue tape ran across the baseboards and ceiling. 

"Have you ever painted a room before?" Clint asked her.

Wanda shook her head. In Sokovia, they barely had a roof over their heads let alone something they could personalize. 

Clint cracked open one of the metal buckets revealing a delicate shade of green. "I'll show you," he said, pouring some into a plastic tray before grabbing a roller.

"That's a nice color," Wanda said. The color was soothing. Perfect for a baby's room.

"Laura chose it," Clint said with a small smile, "she's always been good at that kind of stuff." 

The work was surprisingly relaxing and Wanda felt some of the tension leaving her body as she ran the roller over the wall. 

"I've actually been meaning to talk to you about something," Clint said breaking the silence. 

There was a brief moment where Wanda wondered if Clint was going to tell her to leave. She forced herself to tamp down on the waves of anxiety. Clint would not have asked her to help paint his baby's bedroom if he wanted her to leave. She didn't know why but he trusted her. 

Clint wasn't looking at Wanda. He was still running his roller against the wall. "Laura and I have been talking about a middle name for the baby. I was thinking about Pietro if that's okay with you."

The dead are our burden to carry, Marya.

The words had echoed inside Wanda's skull for years. She had been too young to understand the overheard conversation but for some reason the words had stuck. 

Anya and Apa were hers. Pietro had shared the memories but he was gone. The dead were her burden to carry. 

Wanda's shoulders had never bowed under the weight. She was her mother's daughter. She was survival and rage and pain. She was the names whispered in the dark so she would never forget. 

When she was gone, there would be no one who remembered them. Baba Rivka. Hanna. Danika. The dead children Strucker's men buried in the forests outside Novi Grad. She was the only one left who still knew their names.

There was a part of her that wanted to keep Pietro's memory to herself. No one else would ever understand the weight his name carried.

There was another part of her that knew that when she was gone, every memory of Pietro would die with her. If she agreed, Pietro's memory would live on in this house. There would be someone else to know Pietro had once lived.

"I don't mind," she said before she changed her mind.

****

Her days at the Barton farm passed quickly. Time slipping between her fingers. 

Wanda spent her days helping Clint prepare for Nathaniel's birth. They finished painting the nursery, put together a crib, and then installed a swing set in the backyard. 

It felt good to create something after all the destruction she had wrought. 

Every task was different but Wanda could feel Clint's love imbuing every little improvement. He lived to make life easier for his family.

In the evenings, Wanda played or watched movies with the kids. Lila was convinced that Wanda should see all the Disney princess films. 

Nights were the worst. Wanda was still having nightmares and waking up aching for her brother. 

Sometimes, she wanted to stay here forever and breathe air that wasn't tainted with dust. Even though she knew her time with the Bartons was coming to a quick end. 

Natasha arrived on a Tuesday afternoon, eleven days after Wanda had arrived at the Barton home. Wanda heard the hushed voices talking in the living room from her post in the kitchen. She had offered to cook dinner for everyone. She wanted to be useful especially with the baby on his way. 

Lila had insisted on helping. Wanda had allowed her to stir the batter while she cooked the meat filling for the palacsinta. It was easier than she had expected to recall the steps. Her hands seemed to remember what to do even if her brain kept blanking. Clint had printed off some recipes for her. It had taken her forever to go through them, translating the English to Sokovian and adding Hanna’s alterations.

“Smells delicious,” said Natasha from the doorway to the kitchen. Wanda had just started to cook the sauce. She had completely missed Natasha entering.

“Auntie Nat,” Lila yelled, forgetting all about the pastries she was supposed to be folding. She ran over to hug Natasha. Sometimes Wanda was blown away by how easily Lila accepted people.

Natasha immediately wrapped her arms around the child. “How are you monkey?” she asked, her voice softer than Wanda had thought possible.

“I’m helping,” Lila said dragging Natasha back to the unbaked pastries resting on the cookie sheet, “you can help too.”

“What are you guys making?” Natasha asked as she took over filling and folding the dough.

“Hort…” Lila trailed off clearly having forgotten the long name, “meat pancakes.”

“Hortobágyi palacsinta?” Natasha asked, turning to Wanda for the first time since she had entered the kitchen, “and are these kolach?”

Wanda nodded. “My grandmother used to make them for us,” Wanda said around the lump in her throat.

The sauce was finally done. Wanda stuffed the prepared crepes with the drained meat filling. She rolled, carefully tucking in the ends like Hanna had taught her.

“Do you want to pour the sauce?” Wanda asked Lila. The little girl loved helping. Sure enough, Lila hopped down from her stool to Wanda. “Careful it’s hot.”

Lila ladled the sauce over the filled crepes with way more concentration that the task required. Wanda then put the entire tray in the oven.

“It looks good,” Natasha said, as she continued to fold the kolach. “Where did you learn to cook?”

It was a simple question, but Wanda felt like it was loaded. It was just this sense she got from Natasha, as if everything she did served another purpose.

“I used to work at a restaurant,” Wanda said, wiping down the already clean counter. She set the timer, so the food wouldn’t burn.

“I’m going to get Coop to set the table,” said Lila. She hopped off her stool and ran off. She had so much energy that watching her made Wanda tired sometimes.

****

After dinner, Natasha invited herself up to Wanda's room. 

"How are you doing?" she asked.

Wanda shrugged "I'm surviving," she answered with her arms wrapped around her legs. 

“The new headquarters will be ready at the end of the month,” Natasha started, her voice casual, “Steve wanted to know if you’d be joining us.”

"I want to," Wanda said, the words coming easier than she had expected, "I'm just scared."

Natasha turned to look at the rolling hills outside the window. "What are you afraid of?"

Wanda stared at her hands trying to find the right words. It was harder than she had expected. "Strucker told us he was Shield," Wanda said ignoring the rage that bubbled up inside her every time she thought of the betrayal, "and Ultron promised to save the world. How do I know Shield is different?"

"You don't," Natasha admitted, "Hydra hid inside Shield for decades. It would be foolish to assume we managed to wipe them out completely but we're not all the same."

Natasha turned so she was looking Wanda in the face, "I don't trust Shield, I trust the people who looked at me and saw a person and not a weapon. I'm not going to ask you to have faith in Shield. I'm asking you to have faith in Clint and Steve," Natasha paused, "and me." she added as an afterthought. 

"I won't," Wanda started but then stopped, "I can't control minds anymore."

It wasn't strictly true. Minds still came to her unbidden but just the thought of sending out her scarlet made her feel nauseous. She just saw the Hulk destroying Johannesburg. She refused to be that person again. 

Strucker might have created her to be a monster but she refused to let him define her anymore. 

"I wouldn't ask you to," Natasha said softly, "neither would Steve. That's not what we do. That's not what we are."

Wanda wanted to believe her. She was tired of being afraid. She was tired of always making the wrong choices.

She thought of Clint opening his house and his heart to her. He had never asked her to use her scarlet even when it would have made things easier. He had saved Natasha's life when he had been ordered to kill her. Those were not the actions of someone who would work for murderous psychopaths. 

Her entire life, Wanda had dreamed of bricks crumbling to dust and never-ending war. She was ready to take a leap of faith.

****

Before Wanda knew it, her three weeks at the Barton home came to an end. Natasha had arrived the day before to give Wanda a ride home. They were planning to leave early so they could back in New York the next morning. Wanda couldn’t drive so they were going to have to stop for the night.

“Wait,” Lila called from the top of the stairs as they were leaving. She ran downstairs with a sheet of paper in her hand. “I made a card for you.”

On the front, Lila had drawn several detailed stick figures. It was the whole family, including Wanda. I will miss you, had been scrawled across the top in messy purple handwriting. Wanda opened it up to read the inside.

You are awesome. I’ll miss you. Please, come back and visit. We still have to watch Princess and the Frog.

She blinked away the tears welling up in her eyes. She reached over to give Lila a giant hug. The little girl wrapped her arms around Wanda’s waist.

“Thanks for showing me the Disney movies,” Wanda said.

Lila had insisted that Wanda had to watch to all her favorite Disney movies. They had a movie night where they watched Frozen and Tangled before falling asleep halfway through Princess and the Frog.

“I also got you a present. Daddy helped,” said Lila grabbing a messily wrapped package from one of the side-tables by the staircase.

Instead was a little stuffed Pascal. It was such a small gesture, but it was a gesture of unconditional love. Lila had remembered Wanda liked Tangled best and had sought out a present just because she wanted to do something nice.

“I think it’s time for someone to go back to bed,” Natasha said, also giving Wanda a hug, “be good for your parents.”

Lila ran back upstairs.

Wanda and Natasha made their way outside where Natasha’s car was waiting. Wanda was surprised how unhappy she was to be leaving. She wished she could stay forever. She looked at the stuffed lizard in her lap.

This is what family looked like. This was home.


End file.
